Of Mice and Children
by Rainstorm55
Summary: Ten year-old Todd Manning gets lost during a performance in Lincoln Center and meets a young girl with a boy's name...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Of Mice and Children

Author: Rainstorm55

Rating: K+

Synopsis: 10-Year old Todd Manning gets lost in Lincoln Center and meets a young girl with a boy's name…

December 23rd, 1983

Todd Manning took a last, longing breath of freezing, fresh air as he trudged past the Christmas tree and into the chandelier-lit foyer of Lincoln Center. After so many hours driving through snow and slush, it was a relief to be out of the stifling, overheated, coffin-like atmosphere of the limousine, but he was dreading the even duller ordeal that lay ahead.

"Dad, I don't want to see the stupid _Nutcracker_. Can't I wait for you in the limo? I swear I'll behave."

Tickets from tonight's performance of the famous ballet were going towards New York Children's Hospital, and his father never missed a chance to make a good philanthropic impression – or a tax-deductible donation.

Even a book would be better than this.

Todd had packed plenty of reading material for the deadly boring drive from Llanview, and he still had several books to choose from. Diving into 'The Two Towers' or 'The Castle of Lyr' in the quiet privacy of the spacious backseat sounded like heaven to him.

"You CAN, but you may not. Now shut up, and stand up straight."

"Dad, we're in Manhattan. It's a clear night. Can't we skip this and go to the top of the Empire State -"

Peter Manning suddenly lost control.

"You little - get over here!"

Todd's stomach plummeted into his shoes as his father grabbed the back of his neck in an all-too familiar grasp and dragged him around the corner out of sight into a darkened alcove. He shouldn't have pushed his luck, but he hadn't realized that Lincoln Center would have hidden corners where his father could rage at him unseen.

Todd grunted as his father shoved him against the wall and held him there by the collar. .

"Listen to me, you little bastard," Peter Manning hissed. "You think I put up with your snotnose company all the way from Llanview for my health? We're here to meet people, to make connections. Connections for YOU. And before you argue, you little punk; it's never too early to start knowing who to get favors from. You never know when you'll run into people later in life. So you will get your ungrateful ass in there. You will smile and shake hands with whomever I tell you. You will not make a sound during the performance. And if you make one more argument, so help me God, as soon as we get back in that car, I will make you even sorrier than I am that you were ever born. Is that clear?"

It was clear enough, so Todd briskly nodded. Peter Manning's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scanned his adopted son's face for signs of facetiousness. He didn't find any, but he still delivered a stinging smack to the back of Todd's head before releasing his shirt collar.

Tears bit the backs of Todd's eyeballs as his father reached out and roughly straightened the tie he'd mussed by grabbing him. He told himself it was just that the smack had hurt, and had taken him by surprise. But he knew that neither of those things was true. What hurt deep down was the knowledge that only the presence of strangers had saved him from a real beating. And it was probably only a temporary reprieve at that. He wished his father had gotten it over with. The pain of the bruises was nothing compared to the sickening acid drip of waiting that constantly burned his stomach.

The roads had been snowy, which had prolonged their journey. Their brief argument had further delayed their entrance, so Peter Manning merely nodded at a few business acquaintances as he herded his son across the crowded foyer with a hand on his shoulder. To a casual observer, the touch might have appeared protective and guiding – even loving. Only Todd felt the deep ache of his father's strong fingers into his neck and collarbone as they entered the massive performance hall.

Their seats were fifth row center, which Todd quickly discovered was a small blessing. Since they were sitting so close to the stage, his back was to most of the audience, so he was less likely to be caught yawning by a fellow theatergoer. He was also grateful to note that they were sitting close to a side exit of the theater.

The lights dimmed, and a tall conductor dressed in what Todd privately deemed "penguin chic" emerged and made a dignified bow amidst a polite shower of applause from the audience. The sound muffled Todd's tiny sigh, which thankfully went unheard by his father.

Peter Manning sat bolt upright next to his son. Todd knew from experience that his ramrod posture was a silent warning to him. Peter Manning couldn't have dared Todd to slouch or stretch his arms more clearly if he'd delivered a diatribe or cuff to the head like the ones he'd shot at Todd in the foyer.

Todd knew he wasn't as stupid as his father always accused him of being – at least, he had sense enough to spare his own skin whenever he was given a clue how. So he sat as still as his father and as tall as he could, ignoring the pain that slowly built between his shoulder blades.

The discomfort helped to distract him from the inane performance they were being treated to. The whole story was based on a stupid girl's stupid dream, for God's sake – just like 'The Wizard of Oz', which he also despised. Dancing mice? Toys that came alive? Please.

The first two hours of the show were interminable, but intermission finally came. As the lights rose and people politely excused themselves to their seatmates to head for the lobby, Peter turned to smile at the woman with a helmet of blonde hair and a black sequined dress next to him.

Todd, never one to miss an opportunity, rose and stretched onto his toes for a moment, barely managing to suppress a groan of relief from the tension in his arms, back and legs.

"Sir, may I please be excused?"

Peter Manning rolled his eyes in disgust but then jerked his head to the red glowing Exit sign to their left. "Don't dawdle. Don't get lost. Don't open your mouth to people you don't know, and don't draw attention to yourself coming back to your seat."

"Yes, sir. I won't, sir."

Todd hurried to the men's room, wanting to make the most of the brief fifteen minutes of solitude before the ballet's second act. At least at home, his father usually let him pretty much alone in his room. Sometimes he even confined Todd in there all day, little imagining what a respite it was for his son.

The hours in the back of the cramped, stuffy limo sitting six inches away from his father's relentless barbs had been endless. The two hours in the dark theater had been quieter, but almost worse because they drive home the point that no matter how open and wide-ceilinged a room thy sat in together, his father's presence would always choke him. The knowledge made Todd feel hopeless beyond reason.

And as he washed his face in icy water and then dried his hands, he asked his bleary-eyed expression for the thousandth time why he'd ever been born. His blood parents hadn't wanted him anyway, a fact that his father took delight in mentioning as often as possible.

"The day I took you in was the day it all went downhill for me. You were trouble from the start. Always a puling, spineless little whiner. Your mother couldn't take it, and God knows how much longer I'll be able to. I must have been temporarily insane, taking on a brat that wasn't even mine. You'll never be anything but grief to anyone."

Todd never had any response to these statements – they were all indisputably true. As he dwelled on these and other happy thoughts, he noticed a rear exit to the men's room and decided to use it. The way back through that door would probably be quicker and quieter, and he was dead if he was late back to his seat.

As the door swung shut behind him, Todd stopped suddenly on the thick red carpet and realized in horror that the hallway was totally unfamiliar. His stomach clenched like his father's fists as he turned back to the men's room door and realized it was locked, and he couldn't risk drawing attention to himself by banging on it. He was locked out, and now he was lost.

Things went from peachy keen to perfect as the house lights flickered on and off several times. Even if he could have doubled back through the restroom, Todd had been to enough live concerts to know that the theater doors would now be locked and no one would be admitted.

His father would never believe that he hadn't been able to find his way back to the hall. He wouldn't care that Todd had never been here before and had no way of knowing how huge the place was.

Todd's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he sighed deeply as he weighed the pros and cons of the situation.

Cons? His father would be seething in his seat, but wouldn't risk a spectacle by storming out to search for him. Todd had about ninety minutes of respite before the ballet ended. When it did, Todd knew he had better be waiting for his dad right outside the immense doors of the hall. His punishment would get worse for every single second that his father had to look for him.

Pros? His dad probably would have whipped him anyway for daring to suggest that they do something together as father and son rather than sit through this sissy ballet. At least now he wouldn't have to suffer through its second half.

Todd, cheered by this thought, relaxed slightly as he strolled through the corridor. If someone found him here, he'd just tell the truth – that he'd gotten lost. It had surely happened before, and it's not like he was going to steal anything or break into any place.

He jumped slightly as the rich melody of a piano spilled from a nearby room down the hall on his left.


	2. Chapter 2

Todd's stomach churned again as confident piano music swirled around him – this was a horse of a different color. He could only imagine what would happen if some famous piano virtuoso caught him in the hall and told the managers of Lincoln Center on him.

But even as he thought this, the piano suddenly hit a sour note, all the more noticeable for the perfection of the bars that had preceded it.

"Man! I can never remember that part." The little girl's lilting voice was comic in its severity as she chastised herself for her musical misstep.

Todd waited for a teacher's voice to correct, criticize or encourage her. When no one else spoke to her, he smiled slightly to himself, and relaxed. There was obviously no one else in the room aside from the mystery pianist.

As she restarted the piece from where she'd messed up, Todd's curiosity got the better of him. He walked slowly to the door, which was slightly ajar. He peered in and squinted into the dim, rosy lamplight of the room before he crept in silently, his shoes soundless on the thick carpet.

The small room was almost completely dominated by the shiny black baby grand piano being played by a girl Todd had never seen before. If she had been in the ballet audience, he hadn't noticed her during the first act.

Todd didn't like classical music, but he couldn't help but admire the skilled way the song spilled from her hands. She was good, and the confidence she'd found after her minor mistake meant she must spend a lot of time practicing.

There was more good news and bad news about the situation as Todd saw the direction the piano faced. The good news - her back was to him, which meant he could watch her for at least another minute, but he couldn't see her face – not yet.

From behind, she looked about two years younger than him. Her long, wavy hair was a whisper's shade of darker blonde than his. He wondered if she knew that the ice-blue headband she wore to match her long, lace-trimmed velvet dress made her look babyish. Or maybe she looked shorter than she really was with her white-stockinged legs dangling below the ebony piano stool and her little fingers flying across its ivory keys. For some reason he couldn't understand, he wanted her to turn around, to notice him, to talk to him.

As if she'd read his mind, she finished her piece and stretched her thin little arms above her head. She showed no sign of starting another song. With nothing of interest to look at in front of her, Todd knew she'd turn around soon, so he figured he'd better speak before she saw him, screamed out loud and got them both in trouble.

"Hi."

She wheeled around on the stool. Todd was impressed when she didn't shriek or fall off, but merely looked at him with wide eyes the color of the desert skies he'd seen in _Great Escapes_, his favorite book about the Native Americans of New Mexico.

"Hi," she said, looking at him quizzically. "What are you doing here?"

He wasn't about to tell her that he'd gotten lost coming out of the men's room like a little kid, so he just asked her, "Why are you here?"

She sighed quietly. "I've seen the show twice before, and I was bored."

"You've seen this twice? My sympathies," Todd offered.

She smiled thinly. "What's your name?"

"I like to be called Todd."

"Like the fox in _Fox and the Hound_? Copper's friend?" Her nose wrinkled slightly. "Why do you want to be called Todd if it isn't your name?"

"It's my middle name, and I like it better than my first. When I grow up I'm signing all my papers Todd Manning."

"What's your real name?"

"I told you, Todd IS one of my real names, but my paper name's Thomas."

She raised her eyebrows. "Todd is practically the same as Tom anyway. Why bother calling yourself Todd?"

"You wouldn't understand. What's your name?"

"Marty."

Todd snorted in disbelief. "You're dressed like Alice in Wonderland and you call yourself by a boy's name? How does that work?"

"I do NOT look like Alice in Wonderland," she bristled. "And Marty from _Grease_ is a girl, and she's the coolest of the Pink Ladies."

"I like Rizzo best," Todd shrugged.

"Ugh. That's the name of the head rat from the Muppets, too. I hate rats."

"I bet you next week's allowance your folks didn't name you Marty," Todd continued. "Your parents let you get away with calling yourself a boy's name? Did they name you Martha or something?"

"My real name is Margaret, and my parents are dead."

Todd had been enjoying their conversation up to now, but now he wished he were anywhere else, or that he could rewind the last minute like a tape in his father's fancy new VCR and erase his comment that had hurt her.

"Sorry." Eager to change the subject, he asked her, "Where do you live?"

"In Llanview, outside of Philly."

"Me, too. Do you go to public school?" Whether she did or not, the fact that he went to a private boy's school made it no surprise that he'd never seen her before tonight. And of course, there was the fact that Peter Manning considered the citizens of Llanview – no matter their income – to be paean plebeians and never socialized with them, nor allowed his son to.

"No, I've always gone to St. Catherine's." She swung her legs under the piano stool, and the warm lamplight shone on her patent leather shoes.

"I go to Charlton Prep," Todd told her. "It sucks." He pulled up a red brocade armchair and sat down heavily in it, stretching his legs out in front of him like his father sometimes did after a long business meeting. All he needed was a vodka martini and he'd look just like him. "Who brought you here?"

Her lips turned down at the corners, and Todd mentally kicked himself again. "My Aunt Kiki brought me, but I don't live with her."

"Who do you live with?"

She shrugged. "Sarah's the maid who cleans and cooks, and Richard gardens and drives the car. That's about it."

Todd was flabbergasted, but envious of the quiet and freedom she must have. "Why doesn't your aunt want to live in the house with you?"

"She'd rather travel and drink and have fun. And she doesn't like me."

Todd found this hard to believe. He'd known her for five minutes and he liked her already – especially the way she told the truth straight out. He'd never known a girl like her – scratch that. He'd never known anyone like her.

"Why doesn't she like you?"

"She was my dad's only family, and she's ticked that Mother and Dad left the house and money to me, not her. But she still spends plenty of it. When I'm old enough I'm gonna make her pay it back."

Todd decided to speak his thoughts frankly, since polite pussyfooting had just hurt her feelings twice.

"You'll need a good lawyer. It's too bad your dad couldn't have made a better backup plan for you after you lost your mom – or did he pass away first?"

"I don't think they ever thought they'd have to have Kiki be my guardian," she said, seeming a little needled at any criticism of parents she'd obviously loved. "They went at the same time, and there was no one else."

Todd's blue eyes went round, and the skin around them paled a little. "They died _together_?"

She nodded. Despite the defiant, so-what set of her chin, he could tell she was more upset than she was letting on.

"How?" He realized immediately that he probably shouldn't have asked, but he was taken in by her frankness.

"They went sailing to have a second honeymoon and make me a brother or sister. Their boat crashed into an ocean liner and the engine exploded. They drowned."

"That's awful," Todd mumbled, and scrambled yet again for a change of subject. "Why did your aunt take you to the ballet if she doesn't like you?"

Marty rolled her eyes. "She wanted to make a tax-deductible donation, and she thought that giving it to the Children's Hospital would impress people with what a good guardian she is to me. And I'm in and out of the hospital, so she promised my doctor she'd buy tickets."

"Are you sick?" Todd asked her. She certainly seemed more vibrant than anyone he could ever remember meeting. Her face was pale, but he'd thought that was just her regular skin tone.

"I have lupus."

"What's that?"

She shrugged. "It's just a disease. It can look like other stuff, so it took them a while to figure out what it was. Sometimes it flares up and I get a rash on my skin and I get tired. I'll have to watch it or my heart or liver or kidneys could get sick, but if I'm careful I'll probably grow up and live through it."

"Your doctor told it to you that way?" Todd asked, taken aback by the blunt explanation.

"No, I heard Kiki talking about it on the phone with her friend Rachelle. I wanted to stay home tonight, but she wouldn't let me."

"I thought all little girls loved ballet," Todd said.

"I'm not a little girl. And I'd rather have gone to the symphony, but I do like ballet. I just don't want to be here."

"Why not?"

She looked down at her lap and clutched a fistful of her velvet skirt, crushing the delicate fabric.

"My parents took me the last two years, and this is the first Christmas they've been gone. I want to be here with them, not her."

Todd nodded slowly – he could certainly understand that. He still felt sick when he saw one of his father's girlfriends coming out of what had been his mother's bedroom, or sitting in a negligee at the breakfast table.

"I don't want to be here at all, with anyone, but my dad made me come."

"Your mom couldn't have gotten you out if it?"

Todd shook his head. "My mom left us a long time ago."

"A long time ago?" Marty echoed. A wan, sad smile rose to her lips. "You sound about a hundred when you say that, and you can't be more then twelve. What grade are you in, sixth?"

At this, Todd smiled at her for the first time. He wasn't tall for his age, and no one had ever guessed him to be older than he was. In a swift double impulse he couldn't understand or contain, he decided to both own up to his real age and pay back her unwitting compliment.

"I'm not twelve – I'm almost eleven. How old are you, ten?"

"No, I'm eight," she said glumly.

"Oh," Todd said clumsily, wishing he hadn't mentioned her age. According to his father, girls and women of any age were very sensitive about the subject. He was sure racking up a lot of feet in his mouth tonight. "Sorry."

She shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Who cares? Besides, I look about six in this dumb kiddish dress Aunt Kiki made me wear."

Todd's brow furrowed wryly. So she did know how the dress made her look.

"It's not that bad," he told her, not quite sure why he was trying to make her feel better.

"Please. You were right - I look like Alice in Wonderland."

"What do you want for Christmas?" Todd asked.

Marty picked up a sheaf of sheet music from the piano in front of her and flipped idly through it.

"Some books and videos. Some clothes, a bracelet, I guess."

"No pony? No Barbie doll?"

She gave him a withering glance. "I shaved my Barbie's heads last year, and I have a pony. His name is Claude."

"What does your aunt usually get you?"

"Nothing. She gives Richard a credit card to MY bank account and has him take me to the mall to pick out some stuff, same as on my birthday."

"My dad does the same thing." Todd was sorry that she too had such a cold, boring gift routine, but strangely comforted that he wasn't the only one.

"You mean your chauffeur is named Richard too?" she asked. Todd snorted in appreciation of her wisecrack.

"What do you want for Christmas?" she repeated his question at him.

He was much more forthcoming than she was. "I want my own house for just me and my mom to live in, a fire-engine red Porsche 911, a staff of three, a private jet and a license to fly it."

"You don't want much, do you?" she asked.

"Hey, you asked what I wanted, not what I was going to get."

Suddenly, they both jumped at the voices coming swiftly in their direction from down the deserted hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

"Damn, girl, you were great tonight!"

"Oh, thanks, sweetie. I know it's a cliché part, but I just love playing Clara."

"Are you kidding me, girl? Dancing the 'Nutcracker' in Lincoln Center at Christmastime? You're living the dream."

Todd and Marty looked at each other with wide eyes as the womens' voices faded down the hall past the door. Todd glanced down at his watch and was shocked to realize how much time had passed.

"Oh, hell. The show's over. We're dead."

"Why?" she asked. "Kiki had three gin and tonics before the ballet started, and she'll have had another couple during intermission. I doubt she even knows I'm gone."

"You don't understand. Your aunt might not care about you, but my dad will have been ticked at me ever since I didn't come back. And I still don't know how to get back to the lobby."

"Don't worry. I do," Marty said breezily, hopping off of the piano stool.

"You do?" Todd realized that should have been the first question he'd asked her, but it was too late now.

"Sure. I've been here twice before, remember? And I got lost coming out of the restroom once too."

"I didn't – how did you know I-" Todd spluttered as he stood up from his chair.

"I knew the minute I saw you that you were lost. You're not stupid – if you knew how much trouble you'd get in for ditching the show, you wouldn't have done it on purpose. Let's go meet the folks before you get in hotter water," she said, and offered him her hand.

He took it immediately, and was pleased by its smooth coolness in his own as they exited the small practise room.

They passed several people on their flight, one of whom was holding a large grey mouse costume. Miraculously, no one took any notice of them. Or maybe, Todd thought with a smirk, they thought Marty was an extra from the show by the winter-princess way she was dressed.

Instead of turning back the way he'd come from, she led them further down the hall. Then she took a left turn. Then right. Then left again. Todd was about to argue that she was taking them further away from civilization when they rounded a corner and were suddenly at the top of a steep marble staircase overlooking the lobby.

She grinned at him. "Ta-dah."

"Not bad," he told her, still holding her hand as he nervously scanned the sparkling crowd for his father.

Sure enough, Peter was standing by the open double doors of the theater, looking as ticked off as he dared in a mass of adults whose opinion he cared about. His thin lips were a narrow line as his eyes darted back and forth for his son like an eagle on the prowl for a mouse.

"Oh, terrific. There's my dad, four o'clock," Todd told Marty.

"Tall, brown hair, black suit, red tie, dagger looks?"

"Check."

"Don't worry – leave it to me." Still holding his hand, she led them down the stairs and gracefully weaved their way through the throng of people loudly complimenting each other on their fabulous outfits and good looks.

As they reached his father, she pasted a syrupy smile on her face that showcased a dimple Todd hadn't noticed before.

"Good evening, Mr. Manning. I'm Margaret Saybrooke. How do you do?" she said sweetly. She dropped Todd's hand and offered hers to his father, her teeth gleaming as white as her tights.

Todd gaped at her, his mouth slightly open. Man, she was good, but she was laying it on a little thick. He was surprised she hadn't curtsied, for heaven's sake.

Nonetheless, his father was charmed. "Well, hello there, little lady," he chuckled, shaking her hand in a friendly manner. To Todd's amazement, his dad reached out and ruffled his hair, something he had never done before. "Has my wayward son been bothering you?" To his shock, Todd heard no undertone of malice or danger in the question.

"Oh no, sir," Marty told Peter, her eyes as wide and blue as the Limoges china plates in the living room. "I got lost coming out of the ladies' room, and I met Thomas in the hallway. He offered to help me get back to the hall, but silly me, I took us on a wrong turn and a door locked behind us. Thomas wanted to do the sensible thing and try to find an adult for help, but I was scared we would get in trouble, and I wouldn't let him. We wandered around for just ages. Then just now a cast member opened the door, we got lucky and found the stairs, and here we are."

Todd watched in mute fascination. He didn't know which impressed him more – her lying skills, which rivaled his own, or her recall ability, which had shot out his official name as if she'd known it for years when she'd only heard it once in passing.

"Well, no harm done," Peter laughed heartily. "All's well that ends -"

"Well, THERE you are, missy!" Todd jumped slightly at the loud, nasal voice from behind them.

When he turned around, it was none other than the tall woman in the black sequined dress who'd been sitting next to his father in the theater.

She made a beeline for them. Marty screwed up her nose, which accentuated the little freckles dotting its bridge. As she neared him, Todd smelled why. Marty hadn't been lying – her aunt had obviously downed several gin and tonics to get her through the performance.

"Hi, Aunt Kiki," Marty said. Todd immediately heard the color and music fade from her voice, and he hated Kiki for taking it away.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"

She opened her mouth to explain, but Todd figured he owed her one. "It's my fault, Ms. Saybrooke. We got lost, and I should have listened to Mar-Margaret; she's been here more than I have; but I didn't, and we just now found our way back."

"Well, you're here now," Kiki grinned, swaying slightly on her feet. Todd blinked nervously, hoping she wouldn't fall and embarrass Marty. She could obviously hold her liquor well for a woman, but she was wearing heels. And he certainly hoped she wasn't thinking of driving in this condition.

"And aren't you the handsome gentleman?" she crooned, patting Todd's cheek absently with a scarlet-manicured hand. He cleared his throat – no one had ever called him a gentleman before.

"Um…thank you, ma'am."

"Well, time to beat that traffic!" Peter said, merrily clapping his son on the back. "It was a great pleasure to meet you, Ms. Saybrooke. I hope you enjoyed the show. I must apologize for this boy here, and I do hope to see you again under more pleasant circumstances."

"Oh, do call me Kiki," she insisted. "Thank you for the drink during intermission – it was charming of you. And I'm the one who should apologize for my niece's foolishness – and her willfulness," she said, narrowing her green eyes at Marty that left Todd with no doubt that she'd be in for it later.

"Not at all," Peter said. "Now say good night," he told his son.

Todd was so bemused at the rabbit-hole happenings of the evening – especially with his little Alice in Wonderland suddenly so sad in front of him – that he was tempted to say, "Good night, Todd," to make her laugh. But he knew if he did his father might hit him for real, witnesses or not.

So he just shook hands with Marty's aunt, trying not to wince at the strength of her grasp, which any of his father's business associates would envy.

"Merry Christmas, Ms. Saybrooke," he said quietly.

"And to you, sweetheart," she said with a better-to-eat-you-with-my-dear grin.

"Good night, Mr. Manning," Marty told Peter without a prompt from her aunt.

"Happy holidays, princess."

Todd inwardly cringed at the 'princess', but Marty just smiled politely, and her aunt all but swooned. Gross.

The children turned to each other. She held his gaze, but said nothing. Todd gently took the small black wool coat her aunt held and held it open for Marty. She stared at him silently for a moment, then turned around and stepped gingerly into it. As the adults looked on with solicitous, lying smiles, Todd guided it over her shoulders, lifted her hair out from under it and watched silent as a statue as her dark blonde locks fell over her back.

She turned back to face him. She seemed lost for words too – weird, considering they'd just talked each other's ears off for over an hour. At the same moment, they both said, "Goodbye."

"Well, let's go, son. We've got a long drive ahead of us."

"And this young gal and I have a little soiree to attend with a dear friend of mine. It's a shame you have commitments tomorrow, Peter, or I would insist you come."

"I wouldn't dream of imposing, Kiki, but you and this little doll have a great time. Good night to you."

Nodding politely to Kiki, Peter guided Todd through the dwindling crowd to the doors leading to the glittering fountain in front of Lincoln Center.

Todd saw Marty look down at the parquet floor as she and Kiki walked slowly away. Soiree? A great time? What a joke. Marty suddenly looked exhausted, and he had an insane impulse to go back and tell off her aunt using words that he couldn't wait to be allowed to say whenever he wanted. The one time he'd used such a curse at home, unaware that his father was outside the door, he'd had to stand in the corner with a bar of soap between his teeth for an hour.

The stars glared down at them from a pitch-toned sky as he and his father exited the hall, and Todd was struck by a sudden fear that he'd never see her again. He risked his father's ire to turn back for one last glimpse into the theater's brightness for her, but when a cluster of black-clad revelers moved aside from the massive double doors, she was gone.


End file.
